


It's the Lies That Undo Us

by backwards_silver



Category: Homeland
Genre: Alternate take on Homeland 5x02, Carrie and Quinn meet after 2 yrs, General Alladia Camp, Syria, What-If, s5
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:27:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25522090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/backwards_silver/pseuds/backwards_silver
Summary: If Quinn had still been in Syria when Carrie visited with Otto During, this is something I keep imagining could happen. After all, they missed each other by a few days, right? He came back to Berlin right before she went there, what are the odds? When she was crying in that bathroom, all I could think of was "Where's Quinn when you need him?"I plan to make this a multi-chapter story if I don't get sidetracked by the 10 other fics I'm drafting based on Carrie/Quinn. THERE'S SO MANY WHAT-IFS IN THEIR STORY!
Relationships: Carrie Mathison & Peter Quinn, Carrie Mathison/Peter Quinn
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a brand new writer here so BY ALL MEANS, please leave any feedback as you feel compelled to. These characters never get old, I just see the thousand ways their story could have gone differently and wish that the writers hadn't done them so dirty. But I guess that's where us fans do a some serious repairs. ;)

So fucking close.

Too close for comfort.

She’d left this life behind, hadn’t she?

And here it was back to haunt her, only this time she did have something to lose, something that meant the world to her. Her family. Something she never could have claimed before. She was sobbing over the sink in an abandoned ladies room in Syria and thinking of the whole life she’d left in Berlin. Everything she’d wanted, nearly torn away in the space of an afternoon, at the hands of a suicide bomber and a near-miss with a bomb.

She pushed the heavy concrete door open and walked into the harsh sunlight again, slightly dazed, her hands shaky and her head pounding. She needed to get to her car, get back to her hotel, sort things out, go back to camp Alladia. But she felt so lost. All she wanted to do was hug Franny and Jonas and get as far away from this deserted shit-hole as possible. She felt so fucking alone, more so than she had in years.

She looked up, across the street, where she saw a man leaving a building, a restaurant, with another guy that looked all too familiar. Tall, slim, dressed in dark clothes, familiar messy brown hair, more tan than the last time she’d seen him.

“Quinn?!”

He broke away from the man he was with, telling him something in Arabic. The guy smiled and nodded, glancing curiously at Carrie before going on his way. Quinn was crossing the street towards her, looking utterly shocked and a tad exasperated. “Carrie, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too.” She deadpanned, following him into an area with more cover, noting a bandage peeking out from under his shirt-sleeve. “What happened to your arm?”

“IED. Why are you in Syria?”

“I was heading security for During to visit Camp Alladia.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair, trying not to relive the earlier events of the day.

“You were? So why are you still here? Are you alright?” He looked over her face, clearly noticing she’d been crying. “I’m…I’m fine.” She muttered, but it only lasted a few second before she shook her head. “No I’m fucking not alright, somebody tried to kill During, twice. We barely made it out.” He shook his head, “Well yeah, he shouldn't have even been here in the first place, it’s a war zone, somebody’s bound to get hurt.”

“ _Like you_.” She gave him a meaningful glare and he returned it, “This is my fucking job, Carrie.” She dropped the subject, “I made a deal with Hezbollah, they weren’t supposed to touch him. He was a guest at the camp, but that attack was planned.”

“You made a deal with Hezbollah?!” He was incredulous. She shrugged, uninterested in a debate about her methods. Obviously he’d been fighting them since he got to Syria but she’d done what had to be done to keep During safe.

“Fucking hell, Carrie, and you took their word for it?” He was pissed. She sighed, “Come on, you know as well as I that a deal made by one commander is gonna be honored by the next, enemy or not. During is raising money for the camp.” His jaw worked, clearly he was biting back a myriad of retorts but he didn’t say them so she spoke instead. “So, your arm, how bad was it?”

“Bad.” His tone didn’t imply much conversation so she raised her eyebrows. He looked annoyed, like he couldn’t understand why the fuck she cared. “Come on, Quinn, it’s been two years, where have you been?”

“Here.” He crossed his arms, looking fully done with the conversation but she kept on, who knew when she’d see him next? “So you’re still with the agency, then?” It was a bit of a blow but she was trying to get something out of him. Something tangible. “What do you think?” He retorted, not taking the bait.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Quinn.” She huffed, shifting her weight, crossing her arms to mirror his stance. “So, how long are you here?” He looked to be tossing the question around in his head before finally answering, “Two days. I’m expected in Berlin after that.”

“Berlin?” She was most certainly not expecting that answer. He nodded, “Saul wants me there, he’s got an operation he’s starting.” She looked away, trying to wrack her brain for what Saul could possibly be doing in Berlin with Quinn. “He’s trying to clean up the situation with the leaked documents, does it have anything to do with that?” She asked. Quinn shook his head, “Not sure, he didn’t say.”

“Fuck.” She muttered, “Well...I gotta figure this out. I gotta get back to the hotel.” She was tired, confused, scared, missing her family. And throwing Quinn into the mix for the first time in two years seemed like a cruel joke. But, god, she’d missed him. Even with his asshole attitude and seemingly nonexistent ability to miss any little detail, she felt safer already. “You’re gonna stay here? After what happened?” He was looking at her like she was crazy, which, honestly didn’t seem to far off when she thought of Franny and Jonas waiting for her back home. Her _home_. She needed to be back in one piece but she couldn’t just leave all this behind and forget about it. She had to get to the bottom of what happened.

“Yeah, I have to, I have to figure out why they targeted him. They promised his safety and yet somewhere along the way, somebody sold them out. He could be a target again.” She told Quinn. He was giving her that look. The one that said he couldn’t believe her and was so ridiculously exasperated but he still hadn’t left yet and she was strangely grateful for it. She pressed her luck a bit, “Hey Quinn, will you…do you want to…catch up over dinner or something? Before you leave...I don’t know how long I’ll be here.”

What she wanted to say was that she was afraid she might not make it through the night without losing her mind or getting killed so she’d like to have some company, but it seemed easier like this. He raised an eyebrow, another one of his quirks she’d missed, the way he said a million things in one little expression. She just give a little shrug, trying to show that she meant it. “I’m serious, we have a lot to catch up on, it’s been a while.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picks up where the last chapter left off. Exasperated, annoyed Quinn and reckless, all-in Carrie for the win! Feels like the old days. ;)  
> I imagine the house that Quinn's surveilling to look something like the exterior of the Mango House in Amman, Jordan.
> 
> Please leave your feeedback, thoughts, random bursts of excitement, whatever you're so inclined to say! :) Love hearing from ya'll!

Quinn hedged for a few more seconds at Carrie's suggestion before replying, "Are you here alone?" She nodded, "The rest of the team went home or I lost them. I don't know, all I know is During is on a plane to Berlin and I'm going back to Alladia tomorrow." He looked at her in disbelief, "Jesus, Carrie! You can't go there alone, you'll be dead by the end of the day!" She flung her arms out to convey that she already knew that but had no other options. "I'm not just going home, Quinn, I'm going to figure this out."

He sighed dramatically but both of them knew there was only one way this was going to end. "Send me the address of the hotel, I'll meet you there tonight." He was turning to leave but she grabbed his arm, "Wait, where are you going?" It was growing close to sunset and she'd be wandering a war zone by herself for several hours, not the best way to make it back to her family safe and in one piece.

"I've got some business I need to finish up. Why?" He saw the look on her face and frowned, "Unless you want to come." He sounded dryly sarcastic and she huffed, dropping his arm. If he was gonna be a jerk about it, she'd get on by herself. "Carrie, seriously, just get in." She glared just to make her point known and climbed in to his car, slamming the door. Quinn felt like rolling his eyes, Carrie hadn't changed one bit. Always had to make everything so fucking difficult, even if she was the one asking for help.

The drive was silent at first, but not awkward. It felt like the old days except more tense, more at stake. This wasn't like her days in the agency with Quinn by her side, now they were on their own. Especially her, she was very much on her own. But sitting here, falling right back into step with Quinn in their constant back-and-forth and pissed off arguing, she felt like she might see it to the other side. Just maybe.

"Where are we?" She asked as they pulled up in a shady area of sidewalk, several tall, old stone buildings in the distance. It was dusk and they were somewhere in Amman, in view of the stone-walled village homes. "The one on the curb?" He gestured with his hand and she looked in the direction he pointed. "Hayyan Almasi, he's been founding terrorist attacks in Berlin, giving money to German natives here to fight Jihad in return for their service in their home country." Quinn scanned the premise with his scope, zeroing in on the stone-walled back of the house where there was a gated entrance.

"Are you going in there?" Carrie asked, tone implying her uncertainty. There were likely guards around the home, the place was clearly inhabited by someone with money and Quinn would be one guy going in to do god know's what. "Are you taking him out? By yourself?" She pressed as he fitted his gun with a silencer and hooked it in the back of his jeans. "I'm planting a bug." Quinn told her, annoyed. She didn't feel much more relieved to hear that but at least it meant he'd be in and out faster with hopefully less danger. "Well at least let me come with you, watch your back or something, there's got to be guards we can't see and you're just one person." She was mentally calculating all the possible ways this plan could backfire, imagining Quinn ending up dead within a few hours of her finding him again.

He was giving her an exasperated look but reached behind the seat and came up with another gun, handing it to her. "Just for protection," He told her seriously, "You shouldn't need it." She nodded, fully expecting to make herself useful. There was no way she was going to sit on her ass like a damsel in distress if he ended up in danger. He climbed out of the car and shut the door quietly, making his way through the shadows, under cover of the trees, towards the gate. She watched him climb over the side wall next to the sidewalk with ease, disappearing into the grass that led to Almasi's back entrance.

It was silent and uneventful for a couple of minutes, Carrie scanned the nearby environment for anything unusual but all was normal. She saw movement coming down the sidewalk and saw a young boy with his dog, a soccer ball in hand, walking towards the back entrance. Family, she guessed, from the way he looked completely at ease. He was getting closer to the gate and she swore under her breath, knowing Quinn could be somewhere nearby. She needed to warn Quinn somehow but she had no way to get a hold of him and she couldn't risk being seen herself. A blonde, white lady in the middle of night in Syria would be hard to miss. She tightened her grip on her gun but there was no way she could shoot a little kid, plus it would arouse the entire household to their presence.

The boy walked up to the gate and opened it easily, letting his dog in and closing it behind him and she hoped Quinn could hear it, wherever he was. Her leg was bouncing uncontrollably, she hated sitting here able to do nothing, but she tried to remember that this was Quinn's territory, a job he was fully used to doing, and as she'd seen first hand, was pretty damn good at it.

Movement in the shadows near the sidewalk made her see Quinn climbing back over the wall and jumping down quietly, rounding the car to the driver's side to get back in. She breathed out a breath she didn't know she was holding and clicked the safety back on as he got in. "Fuck, that was close." She muttered as he closed the door, "Did you get it in?" He nodded, pulling out his laptop from the backseat to check the connection. "Yeah, I did. He didn't see me." She watched as he checked the connection to the bug, sounds of a TV came through clearly, some random conversation between Almasi and his wife about their son. He pulled out his phone and dialed a number, asking the person on the other line if they were getting the transmission. After a bit more discussion he hung up and started the engine of the car. 

"So, your hotel?" He asked. She nodded, then questioned, "What are you going to do with him?" He pulled away from the curb, checking for tails as he drove. "My team's tracking him to the terrorists before they leave for Berlin. We've already bugged his office, now his home, there's a team on him when he leaves. Whoever he's meeting with, we'll know." She nodded, finding herself already constructing a plan of her own even thought it wasn't her mission. It was ridiculous, how quickly she jumped right back into this life, this way of thinking. Like it never even left her. Like she'd never _truly_ be rid of it.

She found herself thinking of Franny and Jonas again as they drove. She missed Franny so badly, wanted to hug her and keep her safe, tell she would never leave her again. That she was so sorry for going to Syria and nearly dying. But some little part of her knew that she could never just be a _normal_ mom. She couldn't just shed the CIA like an unwanted snakeskin. It was ingrained in her, this life, something Jonas wouldn't understand, or Franny for that matter. She was almost ashamed of how easily it came to her, being on the run, immersing herself into the mission. She kept telling herself it was just for now, just until she figured out who was after During, then she'd be back to her peaceful, normal little life with Jonas and Franny, she'd be able to leave all of this behind, forget about her trip to Syria, forget about nearly dying today. But there was one thing she didn't want to forget and he was sitting next to her, glaring at the road silently, driving with that single-minded focus she'd missed so badly. She couldn't read him at all right now, but she was still fucking thankful to be with him. She didn't want to forget about him when she got back. Hell, she wished she could take him back with her, convince him to get out of Syria before he got himself killed, and maybe find work in Berlin, get out of the agency like he always wanted, or at the very least, to find a less dangerous job inside of it. 

There were so many things they needed to talk about but she didn't dare bring any of them up, not yet at least. She let her mind wander to the last time they'd seen each other, a memory she'd made off-limits in her mind for a while, now. She'd watched him leave on the night of her dad's funeral and her heart fell so strange, full of hope but also strangled with fear. Fear of fucking things up, of driving him away, of being too _much,_ too crazy, too spontaneous, all of the things she was so sure had driven her mother away from her dad. And she knew deep down that she couldn't lose Quinn over this, a relationship gone sour, her illness. She couldn't do it. She'd lost Brody, her mother, her dad, nearly lost Saul, got Aayan killed and then lost a multitude of her other colleagues. She _could not_ lose Quinn. It would've devastated her. Carrie thought it was bitterly ironic how she'd been so afraid of fucking it up with Quinn because of her illness or something else, yet in the end she fucked it up anyway and he left for a warzone. And she _had_ been devastated, just as she'd predicted. She'd been heartbroken and devastated and she looked for him every day for two years. Even after she moved to Berlin and met Jonas, she still thought of him, wondered how he was doing, if he was still alive, if she'd know if he died. She waited for a year before deciding to move on. She'd developed a good thing with Jonas as a friend and they grew closer until they finally became a couple and moved in, no matter how many times her thoughts drifted to Quinn.

It had felt like a dream, sometimes, the life she had with Jonas. Like she'd wake up one morning and it'd all be gone and she'd be back in that hotel room in Missouri, hearing her phone ring and knowing it was Quinn on the other end. And this time, it'd end differently, she was sure of that. She imagined what she'd say... _"Yes, get your ass on that plane, fly down here and let's talk. And don't you dare leave me for Syria. I can't promise I won't fuck this up but I want to try."_

But instead she was always back in her little apartment in Berlin with Jonas, wondering about what could have been. And she was happy with that life, she was. But she was missing something. And right here, in the passenger seat of yet another rented car with Quinn, in the middle of another crisis, digging to the bottom of another mystery, she'd found what she'd been missing. But she didn't know how those two worlds could collide. How to bridge the gap of the last two years with Quinn, how to reconcile the part of her that always jumped head-first into a crisis, a mission, a crazy hare-brained, dangerous idea. But it was her, take it or leave it. And Quinn would take it, or would have, at least, but she wasn't sure where he stood now.

Jonas...she didn't have the first clue how he'd react to this part of her, he'd never seen her off her meds and crazy, never had to deal with her impulsive and reckless behavior, and never had been in any life-threatening situations with her. He was always so steady, so want to keep himself steady and safe and for her to do the same. Maybe he'd love her enough to learn to be okay with all the risks she took. Right? That's what love was. But the little uneasy part of her gut knew he would be furious to know she was risking her life to stay here and figure this out. 

Sometime into the drive, Carrie must have fallen asleep because she woke up with a start when her head tipped off the headrest. Quinn glanced over momentarily and she wondered how long she'd been out. "Where are we?" She mumbled through her sleep daze. She wondered how long it'd been since she'd actually passed out that hard. The last several nights had been restless and filled with constant doubting and she was surprised it'd come to her so easily. 

"We're about five minutes away." He replied quietly. Somehow, he didn't sound all that tired. Like he could just run on adrenaline alone and never cave, always keeping up the silent, emotionless, tough routine. It frustrated her more than it should've but she knew it was mostly because she wanted to talk to him, missed him, but she didn't want to let her guard down first. It was always like that with them. Both warring to keep their guard up the longest, the first person to break was looked at as the weak one. But maybe it wasn't weakness, maybe she could break some feeling out of him before they had to part ways again. Find that human side of him that she _knew_ was down there somewhere.

"You should've woken me up." She said, sitting up and trying to shake the cobwebs from her head. She was so fucking drained. He didn't reply. She wondered why it was always so hard for her to say something meaningful but once again they were back to the strained silence. They ended up down the block from her hotel, reasoning that there would be less chance for tails to spot them in case people were looking for Carrie. They made their way through back entrances until they found her room. He looked hesitant when they got there, one hand on his hip, poised like he was a second away from turning on his heel and leaving right then and there, but she put a hand out on his arm and gave him a sincere look, trying her best to be open. "I meant it, Quinn, I want to talk. I haven't seen you in a while and we didn't exactly end on a good note last time we spoke." She raised her eyebrows, suggesting he knew exactly what he meant.

He shrugged, nonchalant, "Speak for yourself, no yelling was involved, I'd say it was pretty damn civil for us."

Carrie sighed, exasperated. He was uninterested in digging into the past but she wasn't about to let him leave with things still unresolved. No way he was gonna get out of this one by disappearing again. "Just...come on..." She opened the door of the room and flicked the light on, illuminating a figure standing there. "Jesus!" She shrieked. In a split-second both Carrie and Quinn had their weapons whipped out and the guy was raising his hands, telling them not to shoot. "I won't hurt you!" He was the man she'd seen at the camp earlier that day, Behruz, one of Waleed's men. "What the hell are you doing in here?" She demanded, voice panicked. Quinn was inching closer, the man keeping his hands raised so Quinn knew he wasn't a threat. 

Behruz pointed at the bag sitting on the couch next to him. "What is that?" Carrie asked him. Her hands were shaking, gun less steady than she'd like. She'd never been so fucking grateful for Quinn there. It felt like her insides might melt into a puddle of goo, like she needed to brace herself against a wall and take a breath. 

"Your money. Al-Amin's orders, we gave our word to protect you. We failed."

She lowered her gun unsteadily, calming herself enough to think. Quinn did the same, though less willingly. He didn't seem thrilled with this random man breaking into Carrie's hotel room after her near-death experience today. She wasn't either.

"What happened?" She tucked her weapon into her jeans, coming closer, trusting that if he pulled anything nefarious, Quinn would be on him before she could blink. "Waleed betrayed us."

"Waleed?" It made no sense. "For money," He explained.

"Whose money? Who paid him?" Carrie had paid him in full, she'd also paid Al-Amin, they had no reason to turn against her.

In lieu of answering, he pulled out his phone, Quinn's watchful eye still on him. "Behruz, _who paid him_?!" She asked again, more impatient. He handed her the phone, gesturing for her to watch the video he had open. It was a video of Waleed being interrogated, she watched for a few seconds before pausing it, "Enough, just tell me what happened-"

"He'll say! Listen."

She swallowed hard, pushed play again, and watched Waleed, bloodied and bruised, as the man in the video asked why he killed During, since he was helping them. Waleed mumbled something in Arabic and the man in the video yelled at him to say it in English. "It wasn't him, it was the CIA woman, she was the target." He said quietly. Carrie's stomach dropped, twisting into horrified knots. _How?_ _Why?_

"Six hours he was questioned," Behruz was saying, "Whoever paid him, he was more afraid of them than dying. Beirut is not safe for you, _someone wants you dead_." With that, he stalked out the door, letting it slam behind him. Carrie was frozen to the spot, eyes wide, terrified. Quinn was glaring in the direction that Behruz left, still tense, working through the information of the conversation. He saw the look on her face and moved closer, expression questioning. 

"I don't know," She managed, shaking her head, legs so shaky she tried to find something to lean against. She sat on the edge of her bed, uneasy. "I don't get it. Why would someone want me dead? I haven't done anything, I'm not even agency anymore!" She took gulping breaths, trying to bring herself back to earth. Quinn stood a few feet in front of her, arms crossed, thinking. She met his eyes, despair shining through. This was her whole fucking _life_ at stake, her family, the perfect existence she'd made. Franny was her first thought, the girl would be in danger. 

"Oh fuck," She buried her face in her hands at the realization, sobbing, "Fuck, they're gonna get to Franny. They're gonna hurt her to get to me," She was gasping out her words, shaking, images of masked men dragging a screaming Franny away from her room, throwing her in the back of a dark van. She couldn't take it. She vaguely recognized Quinn's arm around her shoulder, tight, pulling her against his side even as her whole body was racked with sobs. 

"They won't. Not if you get her to safety first." He said calmly, "Then get yourself into hiding, at least until you know who's after you." She thought it through, "And what if they find her?" 

"Make sure they won't." He said, simple as that. She wanted to believe it, that Franny would be safe, that she'd be safe. But she couldn't shake that picture, that thought of her daughter being hurt or killed for the sake of evil people getting to Carrie, of her past catching up with her, running her down. Quinn had let go of her, and she automatically missed his touch. It helped her think, made her feel somewhat safer. "She won't be safe forever." She thought out loud. He stood up, facing her, "Than find out who's targeting you before she's not." He countered. 

She knew it was the only solution, get her daughter to safety first, the main priority, and then track this threat to its root, but she felt so fucking uncertain. Two years out of the game and in domestic life had made her so _soft_ , so unsure, like she didn't trust herself as much as she used to. Now she had other lives depending on her, not just herself. 

"You'll stay, right?" She asked suddenly, and Quinn gave a confused look. "For tonight, until I leave tomorrow." She finished. He swallowed, hesitant. "Yeah." She could see the war in his eyes, he wanted to say no but he could see how desperate she was, how she was genuinely afraid for the first time he'd seen her.

"Good." She said quietly. "I could get room service? If you're hungry." She wasn't extremely hungry, not after that news, but she needed to eat, needed to feel some kind of sense of normalcy. "Sure." Was all he replied. "Do you mind if I use your shower?" She nodded, noticing for the first time just how tired he looked. Just a few hours ago he was slipping in and out of a heavily guarded house and driving her back to her hotel and now he was still here, protecting her, being there when she needed him. Like always.

He disappeared into the bathroom and she grabbed her phone, sitting against the headboard of the bed and staring at it for a few moments before finally dialing Jonas' number. She didn't want to alarm him, didn't even really want to talk to him because she didn't know what to say, how to explain everything she was feeling right now and what had happened. She wished for the first time since meeting him that he'd lived the same life she had, or at least one similar. Than she could just tell him everything, start to finish, and he'd help her build a plan, tell it'd be fine, that they knew how to get through this, that he'd get Frannie to a safe house and all would be well. 

But he didn't live this life.

And he wouldn't know the first thing to do. 

And she couldn't vent to him, cry on his shoulder (figuratively), or expect him to help her build a plan.

But he was her boyfriend, and she had to trust him to get Frannie safe until she could be there to do it herself, even if he had a million questions. She'd have to take them as they came. She braced herself and pressed dial, swallowing back the lump in her throat. 

"Hello?" Jonas sounded slightly sleepy, even though it was only a little past ten in the evening. Faithful to his sleep schedule, as always. "Hey...sorry to wake you." She tried to tame her adrenaline, calm herself to his level, so as not to scare him too much. Even though when he heard what she had to say, he'd probably be pretty fucking scared. 

"It's no problem, what's up?" In his half-asleep state, his accent was even thicker. She smiled a bit, it reminded her of home. "Well I just got back to my hotel." She started, hedging a bit. 

"Yeah? How did it go today?"

"It went fine. But something happened, an attempted attack..." She could hear him shifting, probably sitting up.

"An attack?" 

"Yeah, everyone got out fine but it could've been bad." She waited for him to take it in before continuing. "Turns out the target wasn't Otto, though..."

"Who was the target? Are you okay?" He was panicked now, a hint of frustration coming through. She could imagine the expression on his face, the same one he'd had anytime she'd done anything else reckless. Disappointed, probably, confused, worried. 

"I'm okay. I'm not hurt, like I said, we all got out. But...the target was me, not During." He was silent for a few seconds.

"You? Carrie, is someone after you? Do they know where you are?" His panic was serving to raise her own, she wasn't used to trying to be the calm one, after all. 

"They don't know where I am. I'm safe, for now, I think. I'm leaving tomorrow. But I'm worried about Frannie." She wanted to get the preliminary concerns and confusion out of the way as soon as possible so she could get to the real issue. 

"Good. Good, I'm glad you're leaving tomorrow, but what about tonight? How do you know you're safe? If you were the target of the attack, how do you know they won't try again?" She sighed, annoyed that he wouldn't take her word for it and move on. "I just know, okay? And I'll be safe, I'm with a friend, another agent. I'll be just fine, okay? What we need to worry about right now is Frannie." She could honestly say she knew she'd be just fine with Quinn. She was in safe hands, he'd proven it again and again to her and she was sure it was no different now. She'd spent so much of her life doing things on her own but shockingly, with Quinn, she trusted him to protect her if she needed it, knew she could lean on him when she couldn't do it herself anymore. 

"How did you find this friend? Did they come with you? How do you know you can trust them?" She closed her eyes in frustration, this twenty questions was getting old. She had bigger things to worry about. "Look, I can fucking trust him, okay? I'll be fine. Now, Frannie." Her tone left no room for discussion and she heard the annoyed sigh in his voice, pissed to not have his questions answered. But she couldn't fucking do this right now. Not when the life of her kid was at stake.

"I need Frannie, safe, okay? I need you to take her to your cottage, don't tell _anyone_ where you're going, make sure you're not followed, ditch your phone after we get off, and follow the protocols we established, okay?" They'd talked about this moment a few times, every time he'd assured her that they'd never need it because she wasn't in that life anymore, and they'd be safe. But he'd listened, begrudgingly followed her advice and bought a burner phone, among other things. She could hear his frustration in every word as he replied, "Fine. But, Carrie, you need to tell me what the hell is going on? Who's after you? Why are they after you? When are you coming home? Most importantly, why the fuck is this coming up? If it's because of your old life, I thought you left all that behind!" She wanted to grab him and shake him hard enough that he'd _see_ the real priorities here. 

"I told you, Carrie, you didn't need to go to Syria, no matter what During said. And now...now we're in this _situation_ and you don't even want to explain what the fuck is going on?" His accent was making the words all warped, she was growing so pissed she thought she might actually throw the damn phone. They were in a dangerous, life-threatening situation and he wanted to lecture her on _I told you so_?! What the fuck? She grit her teeth to avoid saying something she'd regret. "Jonas, just get Frannie to safety, okay? I'll see you when I get home, I can't tell you any more than that right now, I'm sorry, I'm trying to find those fucking answers, myself." She sounded irritated, but she was. 

"You don't have the answers? Carrie?!" He snapped, but she couldn't find it in herself to care, she was drained, fucking exhausted. "I don't, Jonas. But I'll see you soon, okay? I've got to go." She knew if she stayed any longer, he'd never get Franny to the cottage and every wasted second was one more that her daughter could be in danger, so she needed to end this. Also for the sake of her own sanity. 

"Fine. Be safe, Carrie." He was still petulant, not even a little bit appeased, but she hoped he'd gotten the message loud and clear. "I'll see you soon, love you." She tried, wanting to repair this chasm that'd appeared between them, but it felt like dental floss between canyons. "Bye." He said curtly, hanging up, and she felt her heart sink. _Well, fuck._ She noticed Quinn had come out of the shower just a second before she said it, and she felt strangely awkward, like a child getting caught doing something bad. She nearly felt _guilty_ but she couldn't understand why. She'd been together with Jonas for a year, and yet somehow it felt like one day (or half day, rather) with Quinn, and she felt like Jonas was a stranger, just some civilian dude she'd picked up on a one-night stand and now needed to explain him somehow. She wondered if Quinn knew anything about her home life, part of her figured he knew every detail of it, but the other part had to reconcile with the fact that _maybe he didn't_. Maybe he hadn't even cared to know what she was doing after he left. Maybe he'd honestly just put her in his rearview mirror and dove head-first into his work. That thought hurt far more than she'd thought it would.

He was drying his hair with a towel, across the room, already dressed, but barefoot, and she mused that she'd never seen him barefoot. She'd never seen him like this at all, just...normal, an average person doing average things like taking a shower after a long day. It was comforting, felt right, to be here in a hotel room with Quinn, worried but not _as_ worried because he was there. She remembered those words he'd said so long ago, on that night she still remembered vividly, a year's worth of kisses with Jonas and somehow she could remember every moment of the one she'd had with Quinn. It was ridiculous, really. He draped the towel over a nearby chair and looked over at her, catching her watching him. It was a strange moment, too candid for both of their tastes, but she just smiled, a tiny, slightly shy smile. She was happy to see him, no sense in hiding that. He didn't react visibly, didn't seem to know what to make of that, but he sat down on the couch across from her bed, setting his shoes by the end of it. He hadn't said anything so she did, instead. 

"That was Jonas." She broached, slightly uncomfortable. She wasn't certain what he'd make of it, but she couldn't stand just sweeping it under the rug, acting like nothing was going on between her and someone else. He just gave a short nod, like he couldn't care less. She thought that was probably untrue, but honestly, he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it. If she didn't know any better, if not for him comforting her during her earlier display of panicked emotion, she'd say he didn't have a single feeling for her left in his body, besides that of a colleague, someone you'd stay with and protect because, _you know_ , it was the right thing to do. But right now, with this bland expression on his face, everything perfectly guarded and neutral, she couldn't find the Quinn she used to know. The one that snapped in her face when he confronted her about anything to do with Brody or Aayan, the one that cursed her over the phone, hating her fucking guts, and yet flew all the way back to the states to make it to her father's funeral a few days later. The Quinn that kissed her under the trees that night, smiled at her like she was precious. Some part of her knew that he hadn't ever been _completely_ vulnerable with her, even on that night, he'd always held something back. But told her things with that kiss, he'd kissed her like he loved her, like he wanted to drink her in, and, if not for her anxiety and fear eating her alive that night, she would've returned the favor. Even now, if not for Jonas, she'd probably definitely return the favor. 

But it felt all wrong, this, being here and knowing that she wasn't _his_ anymore, and he wasn't hers. His life had been god know's what since she'd last seen him, and he wasn't making any effort to pry into hers. She wanted to make _some_ sort of connection with him, something besides just sitting ten feet away from each other all night long. Which was fine, she'd be okay with him being here and not saying a word if he didn't want to, but she got the feeling that he was just holding back, behind that impenetrable fucking wall of his. So she tried again, "We've been together for about a year, he's a lawyer for Otto." She felt weird, explaining all this to him. Like they were... _girfriends_ as she'd mocked so many years ago. 

Fuck.

Quinn was looking at her a little quizzically, now, like he couldn't understand why the fuck she was still talking. But she continued. "It's crazy, really, he's _nothing_ like any of the people I usually date. He's so _normal_ , so civilian, doesn't take risks. I mean, he's a fucking _lawyer_ for god's sake. It's like the polar opposite of me and everyone I've ever liked." She wasn't looking at him, not really, she was glancing in his direction every now and then, but more or less rambling to the wall, the floor, the room in general. When she finally looked at him, he was staring at her with an unreadable expression, but she could swear she saw a hint of _amusement? Annoyance?_ She didn't know what to make of it, so she pressed on, determined to make him snap, otherwise she'd swear she was having an entire fucking conversation with herself. 

"He doesn't get this at all, like _any_ of it. I think he could strangle me right now," She shook her head, sighing, "But he loves Frannie to death, I think he'll keep her safe until I can get there." He shifted ever so slightly, crossing his legs on the couch Indian-style, looking so young and boyish it made her feel weirdly fond. "Well that's what matters." He said simply, very matter-of-fact, very to-the-point. Very Quinn. She shrugged, "He'll have a million questions when I get back, I already know it." They were in limbo, now, both of them watching the other, comfortable but not fully thawed, and Carrie wondered if they'd ever been full comfortable with each other, it was like there was always _something_ unsaid. Or a thousand _somethings._

"Look, Quinn..." She started and his expression immediately tightened, jaw going rigid. "I looked for you after you left, every fucking day, I _never_ stopped thinking about you." She didn't break eye contact, intending to make her point known. He did, looked away with the slightest air of anger. She wondered if he'd stand up and walk out right now. He probably would, if she hadn't asked him to stay. "It was a long time ago." He told her, meeting her eyes again, eyes cold and tone distant, ready to be done with the conversation. He was always ready to be done with these kind of conversations, she thought, but she was starting to think they would never have enough time to have them, there was never a _right time_ to talk about these things, it seemed. She'd do something rash, or he'd leave, and somehow they'd lose each other _again_. So she'd make the most of it.

"Not that long." She briefly heard her mind fill in the blanks for her, a conversation she'd had a while back.   
  


_"It was a long time ago."_

_"Not really." She'd said. "Not when you've chosen someone."_

She'd been talking about Brody then, but she wasn't anymore. She didn't know what the fuck she was talking about anymore, to be honest. Her feelings for Quinn were a volcano and an iceberg at the same time, they were magnetic, she wanted to be near him, to love him, to spend every fucking minute with him and pour herself into him, and him to her. Yet...she also didn't know _how_ to be near him, how to love him, _if_ she could love him, if they could even _stand_ being near each other for that long without losing it. Love with Quinn felt impossible, yet somehow it felt like the only right decision she could ever make, like the sanest thing she'd thought of in a long time, through all of the shit, somehow they kept finding each other and wasn't _that_ enough? 

But it wasn't, because they were still at an impasse. She was with another man and he was...well...Quinn. And of course, there was the minor deal of her having a target on her back that also jeopardized her family and yet somehow he was _still_ apart of that and they'd _still_ found each other. Even in that. And perfect timing, too. 

But Quinn seemed to be considering he answer, and he seemed unconvinced. Whatever he thought she meant by her answer, apparently it didn't resonate with him because he stood and she momentarily thought he was going to walk out the door and never come back, but instead he grabbed his jacket from the chair near the desk and slipped it on before sitting back on the couch, more comfortably, like he was ready to settle in for a night's sleep. 

And...fuck...it was cold, she realized. The AC was on full blast since she'd gotten in and the room was frigid, but instead of turning it off, she offered Quinn the blanket off the bed, thinking it seemed pretty unfair that he'd be sleeping on a couch in a jacket whilst she had an entire king-size bed to herself. He furrowed a brow at her offer, like it was such a strange thing to do, want someone to be warm and comfortable. Although, to be honest, for her it kind of was.

"You know, I've slept in worse." He said drily. She gave him a look, "Doesn't mean you have to now. I asked you to stay, after all." He gave her one more suspicious look but excepted the blanket, and she felt a tiny bit better. Maybe even a little satisfied. For all their bickering about literally _everything_ , it made the small victories all the more rewarding. 

She sensed that the time for conversation was over, even though they'd never gotten around to the room service she'd mentioned, but she was dead tired and decided sleeping was a pretty good idea at the moment. She turned off the overhead light on her way back from going to the bathroom, noting that Quinn had laid down and closed his eyes already, looking the most peaceful she'd ever seen him, next to her father's funeral. Apparently sleeping was the only time he ever relaxed. She slipped off her own shoes and jacket and climbed into bed, wrapping the covers around her and turning off the lamp next to her bed, feeling almost _contented_ , despite the shitty situation and the possibility of being killed in the next 24 hours. It seemed less important right now, things that could wait. The only she was thinking about was Frannie. If her daughter was safe, she could sleep peacefully. Quinn's presence in the room helped tremendously with that, and she drifted off faster than she thought she would. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally update this! I've been swimming in fic ideas and it's a whirlwind to keep up with all of them, so this isn't the longest chapter, but I do still have plans for this story! ❤︎

The next morning came too quickly, Carrie opened her eyes to pale dawn light coming through the window. She’d slept well, too well for the situations she was in, for everything at stake. Immediately she sat up to see if Quinn was still there, and was relieved to find that he was. He was asleep still and she breathed out a sigh, didn’t want to face doing this alone. She grabbed her phone and texted Otto about the flight he’d arranged for her at a private airfield, whenever she needed it, and told him she’d be leaving early instead of sticking around. If someone was after her, tapping her cell, they’d know when she’d be leaving but no where she was headed, and she had Quinn with her in case shit went down the drain, so she would be fine. She climbed out of bed, quietly, but not quietly enough that she didn’t wake Quinn. He turned over, sleepy but instantly awake, perks of the job, she knew, and saw that it was just her.

“Morning.” She told him dryly and he looked nonplussed, closing his eyes and breathing out a sigh. “If you wanna sleep, we can leave later.” She knew she wouldn’t sleep at all until she saw Frannie safe and sound but it didn’t mean she’d rob Quinn of some peaceful sleep. But he shook his head, threw off the blanket, “If you’re up, I’m up.” She was grateful for it, wanted to be home as soon as possible, but she also wished he could stay, help her figure out everything that was going on. Jonas would be helpful in his own way, as much as he could be with so little knowledge of the agency, how she lived, how these threats affected her life. But Quinn would know what to do, wouldn’t need hand-holding, and she’d feel a hell of a lot better knowing she had him with her.

She didn’t bother with showering, just washed her face and dressed quickly, figuring breakfast would be helpful but knowing she wouldn’t have time for it. When she came out, Quinn was waiting, sitting on the edge of the bed, he’d already gathered her stuff by the door. “Thanks.” She told him and he nodded. It was strange how well they worked together with so few words, but she knew she was running out of time with him and hadn’t said even half of what she wanted to tell him.

“Quinn, there’s something you should know,” She told him as they were leaving, packing her stuff in his car, without her asking he’d already planned to drive her to the airfield, make sure she got on her flight safely. He met her eyes with suspicion, not too eager to hear what this thing was that he needed to know. “Part of the reason I left the agency was because Dar made a deal with Haqqani, Saul, too. I couldn’t stay after that.”

He scoffed angrily, tossing her bags into the backseat of his car, “You think to tell me that now?” She huffed an indignant breath of her own, “Well it’s not like you were around for the last two years.”

“How long did you know?” He asked her, still pissed, his tone saying he already figured the answer. He saw the look on her face and her silence answered it for him, “Before I left, then.” He glared for a second before getting in the car, not bothering to wait for an answer. “Quinn!” She climbed in, too, trying to figure out how to sort out all of the myriad thoughts in her mind, “I didn’t tell you because you would’ve lost your shit, there was no point, I didn’t even know everything that happened until after you left.” She hated the way she felt so desperate, desperate to make him see that this wasn’t something she’d just chosen to hide from him, wished he’d just stop shutting her out, stop being so fucking angry with her, and for what? For moving on with her life? For finding happiness and getting out, like he’d wanted.

“Fucking hell.” He muttered, not looking at her, not even present in the moment, she could tell, he’d already checked out. “Look, I’m telling you because I didn’t just leave and go start a new life, I couldn’t fucking stay, and you should’ve known a long time ago.” She pressed.

“So I can do what, exactly? Tear Dar’s head off? Tell Saul to go fuck himself and leave the agency?” He doesn’t say _like you did_ , but she hears it in his voice all the same. “I didn’t say that.” She replied tersely.

“Then what are you fucking saying?” He snapped, she could hear the distrust in his tone, the anger that had been their currency for too fucking long. “I’m saying there’s nothing in this life that’s good, Quinn, nothing but lies and more lies and so much fucking death it taints everything around you. Don’t you see it? It doesn’t solve anything, nothing gets better, there’s only more war.” Her voice had risen in intensity, her tone taking on one she’d used so many times in the past, trying to turn someone. Trying to turn Quinn like he was an asset.

“That’s fucking rich, coming from you.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

He didn't reply, only shook his head in disgusted silence as he pulled out of the parking lot. It took every ounce of her willpower not to shove the gear into park and make him look at her and explain himself. Instead, she pivoted her whole body towards the window, not even trying to hide her anger with him at the moment. She didn't know what the fuck she wanted from Quinn, why she even cared so much that he was angry with her, why she cared at all after all of this time. 

But she did.

She felt guilty about everything, about her non-answer the last time they spoke, about not trying harder to find Quinn after he'd left, about jumping into a relationship and moving in with someone else while still not knowing what Quinn was doing. Yet she was also abhorrently furious with him, he'd made his own bed, she thought. If he'd truly wanted to see her so badly he would've showed up on her doorstep, something he was completely capable of doing, he could've found out where she was living and staked out until he got a moment alone with her. 

It's what she would've done, after all. Had she known where he was.

She hates the bitter, cracked feeling in her heart when she thinks about the fact that _he didn't_ , that's the real kicker. With all of his agency resources, he could've easily found her in a matter of days, it's not like it was any secret where she was living or working and she was positive the CIA had carefully tracked her every move over the last two years since quitting. 

"Did you ever look for me, Quinn?" She asks finally, to the stoic statue he appears to be. He glances at her briefly, surprised, upset. 

"What do you think?" He asks sharply. She closes her eyes, frowns, sighs out a long, frustrated breath that doesn't make her heart feel any better. She's all wired and tense, still from holding in too many emotions, too many things left unsaid. If she could turn back the time, she would've never let him go on that mission, had she known. But it was his choice, in the end, she just wondered why he never came back. 

She wonders if this is how it's going to be between them for the rest of the trip, this odd tenseness, this underlying palpable anger. _What really matters is that he's here, helping me,_ she told herself, _everything else doesn't matter, it's history._

Right?

At the airfield, Carrie hesitated to get out of the car. She knew it was safe travels from here, that there was no need for her to see Quinn anytime soon...and yet, she didn't want him to go. He glanced over at her, waiting, eyes questioning if she was okay.

"Don't die, okay? I fucking mean that, Quinn." Her voice was softer, more raw than she'd intended, but truth came in the emotions she was trying to conceal. 

He gave a skeptical look, clearly it wasn't the goodbye he was expecting, "I'll try." But he didn't sound too sure.

"For god's sake, Quinn, just come back. Stop risking your life here, you don't even want to be doing this," She was borderline desperate now, had this terrible feeling that if he didn't come now, she might never see him again. In this life they lived, the one she'd thought she'd left behind until yesterday, nothing was promised, life especially. 

"You're right, Carrie, I don't. No one does. But we do it anyway, you know that better than anyone else," He shot her a look. 

"I know! And I got out, I left all that behind and so can you. Start a life somewhere, find some peace, anything but _this_." He wasn't looking at her now, staring into the distance, jaw clenched, emotions unreadable. 

She sighed. "I need you, Quinn, I've said it a million times. And if you don't come back, if you don't get out of all of this, I feel like I'm never going to see you again. I could've died today! More than once-"

He cut her off, "Which is _exactly_ why you should bee on a plane home right now."

She glared at him, mostly just to shut him up so she could make her point. "That's not what I'm talking about. I could've died, and I'm not even in this business anymore. But you could die every single _fucking_ day you stay here. So _please_ , just come back home." She didn't mean to say 'home'. Or maybe she did. She wasn't sure what home meant to him, or what she meant by saying it to him. But it felt right. Where she was, Quinn should be. It was home, whether they were together or not. She just needed to know he was there, he was close, and he was safe.

"You gotta go, Carrie," He said, in lieu of replying.

She sighed a frustrated breath, her best hope was that he'd heard her, and he would think about. She couldn't lose him, didn't know what she'd do if he was gone. The last two years had been painted with a terrible sense of dread in the pit of her stomach, that one day she'd see Saul and he'd just say ' _Did you hear about Quinn?_ ' And she'd hear those dreadful words that she never wanted to hear. 

"Yeah," She told him, strained. "See you soon."

He didn't reply, but he finally looked at her, and she hoped it would be enough, that he could see in her eyes how much she meant this, how much it hurt her.

When she finally turned her back on him, it felt like she was leaving a piece of herself behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This made me kind of sad to write, because I hate seeing C/Q constantly leaving each other, but it was necessary....for now
> 
> Please leave your thoughts! I always love discussing with you lovely people! ❤︎ ❤︎


End file.
